This Wasn't Exactly Included In My Trip Itinerary!
by DinerGuy
Summary: It's up to the friends Shawn left behind to find him before he disappears for good.
1. Chapter 1

There's a load of thanks owed here (because apparently I forgot to acknowledge certain betas during these last chapters). I couldn't have done this without all the help. Many thanks go out to PFers Hutchster, veggiewoppa, Starphyer, Insertwittynamehere, Galinda05, Anon A Mouse, and Kristy (wow, there's a lot of you!) for the sweat, blood, and tears (exactly whose sweat, blood, and tears I can't say) that went into this fic. Without you girls, it would have been much, much less than it is. For that, we all thank you!

Originally written June 2009-July 2010 (I was sadly uninspired to write this quickly).

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable content belongs to its owners. I'm just borrowing for fun, and no copyright infringement is intended.

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A blast of cool air greeted him as he pushed open the door. The occupants of the building turned when they heard the tinkle of the bell.

He strode confidently into the room, his eye taking them all in. There weren't many people around at the moment, just a few scattered here and there amongst the tables. He seated himself on a stool at the counter and gave them a cocky grin. Nothing was going to take him by surprise.

"What'll ya have?" the woman behind the counter asked.

"Oh, uh, a pineapple smoothie."

The men sitting within earshot burst into laughter.

"Honey, you're a long way from any fancy drinks here," the plump woman informed him. "It's just good ol' home-style cookin' in this diner."

Shawn nodded. He should've known. "Well, then, what do you recommend?"

"How 'bout our chicken dinner? Guaranteed to fill ya up and satisfy the ol' taste buds," she replied with a wink.

"Sounds good. Thank you."

"Shore thing, sweetie."

The man to Shawn's right leaned over. "Where you from, stranger?"

"Santa Barbara."

"Ah. You're a little off the beaten path, then."

"Yeah. I just needed some time to myself. I thought a road trip would help clear some stuff up. Then my bike broke down –"

"Stuff? You havin' home problems?"

"I'd really prefer not to talk about it."

"Sure," the man nodded. He lowered his voice. "Wife troubles always get me."

"What?" Shawn raised his eyebrows. "No, I'm not married. It's … a different kind of problem for me."

"Ah, right." The man nodded and grinned.

Shawn was about to make a comment back when the waitress cut in.

"There ya go, Hank, makin' up stuff again. I know my sister, and I know you. There's no couple gets along better."

"Sure, Velma," he chuckled.

"Now get on with you. I don't need you takin' up space at my counter." The twinkle in her eye belied her words as she shooed at him with a dishrag. "Tell that wife of yours she'd better keep you fed so you don't keep comin' in here."

"Right, right," He laughed and threw a wave in her direction as he exited the restaurant.

Velma turned to Shawn. "I'll be right back with a drink for ya. You want water, tea, coffee, or lemonade?"

"Depends," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Did the cook wash his hands before starting the drinks? I don't want to catch a cold."

"Of course he … Wait." Velma's eyes widened in surprise. "How'd you know that?"

Shawn tapped his temple. "I'm a psychic."

"Really?" She sounded excited. "Like, can you tell me something about myself?"

Shawn looked her up and down quickly. He noticed the absence of a wedding band and added it to the looks she kept sending the man seated at a table along the wall.

"You're …" he held his fingers to his head in his classic psychic pose. "You want to know if that man over there … is going to ask you to marry him anytime soon."

Velma's round eyes got even rounder. She nodded so hard Shawn wondered if her head would come off.

"Yes!"

"How long have you two been dating?"

"A while," she blushed. "Joe's so sweet and romantic and we both share the same dreams and hopes for our futures and he promised me he'd get a ring and ask me to be his wife one day but it hasn't happened yet and –"

Shawn cut in when she paused to take a breath. "Great. I'm so happy for you."

"Does that mean he's gonna pop the question soon?" she asked in a conspiratorial tone.

Shawn's mind flashed back to the catalog he had seen the man hiding every time Velma went past. "Definitely."

She giggled. "You're amazing! I'll be right back with your plate."

In no time at all, she returned with his meal. "You eat. Need to get some meat on those bones." She winked at him as she went off to serve another customer.

Shawn managed to look offended for a moment before losing himself in his meal. Velma hadn't been kidding about the food.


	2. Chapter 2

"You've reached Shawn Spencer, psychic extraordinaire. I can sense you're calling about something important, so –"

Gus ended the call, a worried expression on his face. He hadn't heard from Shawn in a while, and his friend wasn't answering the phone. It was cause for concern if the pseudo-psychic didn't call him more then five times a day.

But Gus hadn't had any contact with him in … how long had it been? 26 hours and 37 minutes? He was surprised to find he had been counting.

He sighed and pulled up Henry's number on his phone. Hopefully he would have an idea of where his son could be. Then again, Henry and Shawn weren't exactly on the best of terms since –

"Henry Spencer."

"Hi, Mr. Spencer, this is Gus. Have you heard from Shawn recently?"

"No, and frankly I don't care. Unless he wants to apologize for the other night, I don't want to hear about him."

"All right. I just thought –"

"Look, Gus, I'm kind of busy at the moment. I'll have to call you back."

Well, that was a waste of time, Gus thought, staring at the phone in his hand. Where could Shawn have gone? Was he at his apartment, sleeping off a night of drinks? If he was upset enough, it was a possibility, even though Shawn was more the type to –

Oh no.

Gus grabbed his keys and hurried out to his car, driving to his friend's apartment as quickly as he could.

Shawn was more likely to run away from his troubles.

And Gus could think of a major trouble Shawn would want to escape. That case … The one that Shawn had been just a little too slow solving.

Shawn's bike wasn't in the lot when Gus pulled in. The door was locked, but Gus let himself in with the spare key.

The fact that Shawn was no neat freak clued Gus in right away that something was wrong. There were only a few dirty dishes and smelly take-out containers on the kitchen counter – about a day's worth.

The bedroom was a little messier than the rest of the place, with clothes in random piles across the floor and the closet ajar. Dresser drawers were slightly open, pieces of clothing hanging from them like wilted plants.

A feeling of dread knotted Gus' stomach as he checked under Shawn's bed.

He found multiple candy bar wrappers, a few Styrofoam cups, and a plethora of dust bunnies.

But the backpack was gone.

His fear was confirmed. Shawn had bailed.

He'd gotten fed up and left – for how long, Gus didn't know. He only knew his friend was off on his motorcycle somewhere, perhaps miles and miles away, and most likely having the world's largest pity party.

The worst part was that Gus had no idea where his friend was. Shawn could've gone to Mexico or Washington or Colorado. For all Gus knew, Shawn could be across the country in New Jersey.

Much as it pained him to admit it, he couldn't do anything. He would just have to wait until Shawn called or reappeared. In the meantime, he'd have to find a way to deal with that notice that had arrived in the mail at Psych the other day.


	3. Chapter 3

After finishing his meal, Shawn asked Velma for a recommendation on a hotel. She pointed him in the direction of the only such establishment in town. According to her, it was a nice place with a homey feel. Shawn didn't mind what the atmosphere was as long as it had a clean bed, but he was glad to find that it had a good reputation.

It was late in the evening by the time he finished registering, so he decided to turn in early and wait until the next day to check out the town. After all, he'd be stuck there for at least a couple of days while his bike was repaired, and exploring sounded like the most interesting thing to do.

As he lay on his back in the darkness, he found his thoughts wandering towards Santa Barbara.

There was no reason he shouldn't have been able to solve that case. The facts had been laid out so simply, so easily. Yet he'd still missed them. He hadn't been able to turn the correct key in the lock of the case quickly enough.

If he had only been able to work it all out sooner, it might not have ended the way it did. As it was, Lassie and Jules had barely gotten there in time.

The image of Louis Masters flashed unbidden across his mind, his photographic memory pulling up every detail as clearly as he'd seen them that night …

He could hear the shouts and the gunshots, feel the pain and the wet stickiness. He could see Beverly sobbing, pleading with the masked intruders, Gus's anxious expression, and the pain written across Louis's pale face. He worried that he'd called the detectives too late; they wouldn't get there in time …

Shawn turned over on the mattress, banishing the recollections. He should focus on what he would do with himself now that he'd given up the job he'd had for years. It was the longest he'd ever held one down, and he was surprised he even missed it.

There was no going back, though. It was apparently time to call it quits. Nothing lasted forever, and his psychic days had come to an end. Everything was falling apart, and he wasn't going to take the chance that they'd unravel even more if he tried to fix them.

Gus had probably figured out he was gone by now; Shawn would be surprised if he hadn't. A pang of guilt surfaced for a moment, but it was quickly squelched. His friend could learn to get along without him.

Granted, Gus was probably upset with Shawn for leaving behind all they'd worked so hard to achieve. That was part of the reason Shawn hadn't turned on his phone since leaving Santa Barbara. He didn't need to hear all of Gus's reasons why he should come back and work things out, and he definitely didn't need any lectures from his dad.

How could they understand any of what he was going through? Neither was in his place, and he was tired of hearing people say they understood his situation. No one did. No one else could possibly understand how it was to know you could have kept a horrible situation from happening but didn't.

Tired of all the thoughts flowing through his head, Shawn finally fell asleep.

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The sunlight streaming through the cracks between the blinds woke him the next morning. Shawn glanced at the clock by the bed and sighed. It was time to get up and moving.

One hot shower later, he slipped his room key into his pocket and made his way to Velma's diner.

The place was a bit busier than it had been the last time he was there, and there were several servers he hadn't seen the night before. Making his way to the counter, he took a seat and waved at Velma.

"Well, well, look who's back," she chuckled. "Couldn't stay away, could ya?"

"Nope. Got anything good for breakfast?"

"Hotcakes and sausage?"

"Sure thing."

"I'll be right back. Coffee?" She winked, a grin playing across her features. "Cook's feeling better."

Shawn laughed. "That would be great; thank you."

After she left, he glanced around the room, hands absently fiddling with the napkin in front of him. The customers were a mixed bunch. There were several families occupying booths around the perimeter of the place, while the tables were mainly filled with workers having a bite to eat before their shifts began.

A familiar face caught his eye. Shawn's brow furrowed as his mind worked to place it with a name. When he finally figured it out, his eyes widened slightly.

He looked different now, clean-shaven, with longer hair and tanner skin, but there was no mistaking who he was.

What surprised Shawn even more was the sheriff's star Sol Hayden now wore. Knowing his history, it seemed quite ironic that this man was now in a lawman's position.

Sol looked up and caught Shawn's eye. Not wanting to arouse any suspicions, Shawn grinned as if he were simply a curious tourist then looked away. When he glanced over a moment later, the sheriff had gone back to his meal.

Thankfully, it seemed he hadn't been recognized. Shawn rubbed his chin with his left hand, grateful he hadn't decided to shave that morning. He didn't expect Sol would remember him after all this time – especially since the man's memory had never been amazing – but it didn't hurt to have some cover.

"Here ya go!" Velma announced brightly.

"Thanks." He accepted the steaming mug and took a sip. "Ah. Tastes awesome."

Smiling, she turned back to the kitchen, bringing out his breakfast a moment later.

Shawn kept an eye on Sol's table while he ate, but the man didn't look his way again. About ten minutes later, the sheriff left a few bills on the table and left the building.

As he finished his meal and started down the street, Shawn debated whether or not to call Gus or Jules. He wanted to let them know what was going on, but contacting either one of them would just defeat his purpose for leaving.

If his bike weren't busted, he could call them and leave before they arrived. That wasn't an option at the moment, but he decided he would put the plan into action as soon as the mechanic finished the repair work.


	4. Chapter 4

It took less than five minutes for Shawn to arrive at the garage. As he walked past the gas pumps, the mechanic looked up.

"Ah, Mr. Spencer. Checking on your bike, I presume?"

"Yeah," Shawn replied. "Is it about done?"

"Well …" the man drew the word out, as if trying to postpone the news.

Shawn sighed. "It's going to take longer, isn't it?"

"Well … yeah. I had to end up ordering a part for the engine, and it won't be here until at least tomorrow afternoon."

"Great." Shawn ran a hand through his hair. "This is, uh, more than a little inconvenient. Is there any way to speed it up?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer; there isn't. If you have important business back in Santa Barbara, we could work something out, I'm sure."

"No, I don't need to be anywhere soon," Shawn told him. "But it should be ready tomorrow evening?"

"Pretty sure."

"All right. Thanks."

As Shawn turned to leave, he noticed Sheriff Hayden coming up to speak to the mechanic. The man looked at him, and Shawn couldn't help wondering how much he had heard of their conversation. Sol didn't give him more than a friendly smile, but Shawn was almost sure there was something else behind it.

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All that day and the next, Gus found himself glancing eagerly at the caller ID every time the phone rang. Each time, he hoped it would display his friend's name, but it never did.

When the phone rang that evening, Gus stopped after seeing SPENCER, snatching up the device in his excitement.

"Shawn!"

"No, this is Henry. Don't you have caller ID, Gus?"

Gus's shoulders sank. "Yes, sir."

"Then use it. It's there for a reason," Henry instructed before switching topics. "Have you seen my son?"

"Not recently."

"I've been trying to get a hold of him since this morning."

"Well, I've been trying since yesterday when I called you."

"You mean you haven't heard from him in almost two days?"

"That's right. I think he left town," Gus said, wincing in anticipation of the reply.

"What?"

"I went to his apartment, and he wasn't there. Neither was his backpack or bike."

Henry sighed. "It's just like him to run away from problems."

Gus could imagine the older man running a hand over his head in frustration.

"This is about the Masters' case, isn't it?"

"Yes," Gus acknowledged.

"You're not telling me everything," Henry stated.

Why did he have to be so observant? Henry Spencer had been a splendid detective when he was on the force, and his skills apparently were still with him.

"Well?" Henry prompted.

Sorry, Shawn, Gus thought. "No, there's more. It's partly the guilt, but it might have to do with the lawsuit."

"The what?"

Gus put the phone back against his ear. "Shawn didn't want anyone else to know. I don't think he would've even told me if it didn't involve the whole Psych agency."

"How can he keep something like that a secret for long?"

"I don't know. I just know he didn't want to tell you or anyone else."

"Who's filing against you boys?" Henry wanted to know.

"Who else? The Masters."

"For what?" Henry scoffed. "Would they be suing the police department if they'd gone to them instead of a private detective agency?"

"I don't know," Gus replied, rubbing his face. "All I know is we got a notice at the office the other day letting us know a hearing had been scheduled."

"Pain and suffering?"

"Yeah."

"Hmmph. Like Shawn didn't have enough from the incident as well. Any judge will be able to see that."

There was a slight lull in the conversation before Henry spoke up again.

"Any idea where he went?"

"Only that it's somewhere within driving distance. I went to check the airport lot, and there was no sign of his bike."

"And we have nothing else to go on?"

"No, not yet," Gus sighed. "Do you think I should call Juliet?"

Henry sighed. "Much as I'd like to, there's no reason. He ran off, far as we can tell, and there was no foul play. The police don't have time to check into these sort of cases. Shawn may not act like one all the time, but he's an adult. He makes his own choices."


	5. Chapter 5

Shawn hadn't thought he could get so bored so quickly. Yet, unfortunately, he did.

The little town didn't have much in the way of entertainment, so Shawn found himself flipping channels in his hotel room most of the day. What he wouldn't give for an '80s marathon.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he was suddenly aware of the change in the lighting. The room had been awash with sunlight streaming through the blinds, but now it was dim and filled with shifting shadows.

When he stood, he was painfully aware of having been asleep. His muscles protested at the change from their curled positions. Shawn stretched them out a bit, then, yawning, exited his room.

After having dinner and wandering around the town for a while, Shawn returned to the hotel. He unlocked his door and stepped into the room. Pushing the door closed behind himself, Shawn reached to click on the lights.

The minute his fingers touched the plastic switch, the darkness exploded in a burst of light.

Stunned, Shawn blinked and shook his head. It didn't have a chance to clear before he was hit again.

He vaguely felt himself falling and tried to reach out and catch himself, but it felt as if he were swimming in molasses. The thought of how disgusting that would be flashed briefly through his mind before he hit the floor.

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As he slowly became aware of his surroundings once again, Shawn knew something was wrong. There was no hum of the air conditioning unit, no tick of the wall clock. And there was definitely no bed underneath him.

He didn't want to open his eyes. His head hurt too much. Though he was curious as to where he was, his body argued it would be much more convenient to stay oblivious and just sleep it all away. Then someone coughed.

Shawn knew he had been alone before blacking out, and his aching brain quickly (well, relatively quickly) clicked the pieces together. The memories came back full-force. Remembering the shadowy figure that had ambushed him propelled his eyes open.

He was only slightly surprised to see Sol Hayden leaning against the far wall. The man was watching him intently, and a light sprang into his eyes when he saw his prisoner was conscious.

"Hello, Shawn. So glad you could join the party."

"Party?" Shawn winced. He started to move his arms, only to find them restricted by handcuffs. "Must have missed the invite."

"No matter," Sol shrugged the remark off. "There is plenty of room for you – you are the guest of honor after all."

"I'm flattered, really. But it would be too much trouble. I'll just be going." He struggled into a sitting position, squeezing his eyes shut when the room started spinning.

"Hold on now," Sol advised. "You should stay. I've got some killer games planned."

"Yeah, well, I never was too good at games," Shawn replied.

"Offending your host isn't considered a polite gesture."

Shawn opened his mouth to retort, but Sol held up a hand. "Enough with this. You know why you're here, don't you?"

"Because you're so desperate for a guest?"

Sol's eyes snapped in indignation. "You ruined my life!"

"I ruined your life?" Shawn repeated in surprise.

"Yes." The man's face grew hard. "Everything I'd worked for, everything I'd spent my time building. You destroyed it all!"

Shawn cleared his throat. "I hate to break it to you, dude, but that was your fault."

"And how's that?" Sol's tone warned Shawn not to press on, but he kept going anyway.

"Yes. Yours. You don't really think you could get away with breaking the law forever, did you? Which, by the way, is really ironic, seeing as how you're the sheriff here. But it doesn't matter. You would have been caught by someone eventually, which makes it entirely –"

Shawn was suddenly cut off. Sol had apparently had enough, and his foot launched out, landing against Shawn's abdomen.

Shawn gasped as all the air left his lungs, retching as Sol planted another kick in his stomach.

He attempted to rise, struggling to get his feet underneath him, to give himself some defense against the onslaught of blows now raining down on him. Sol let him get part of the way up before landing a sweeping blow that knocked him down again.

Shawn curled into a ball as his body instinctively tried to protect itself. Each kick sent bursts of fire shooting through his bones, and he definitely felt a rib crack before he gave into the darkness that descended upon him.

He wasn't sure how long it was before it lifted. As it did, the pain made itself known loud and clear.

Sol was leaning over him, checking his pulse. "Good. You're back. Wouldn't want you to make your exit too early."

"Yeah …" Shawn groaned. "Wouldn't want that."

"I do wish you'd take this more seriously, Shawn." Sol sighed. "Sorry as I am to walk out on you, I need to get back to town. Can't have anyone missing me." He leaned over to check the cuffs. "I'll be back in a while."

Wincing in pain, Shawn drug himself over to the wall. He had to stop every now and again to rest, but he finally made it. With a little more effort, he pulled himself up so he was leaning against it. His hands being cuffed behind him didn't do much to help with the comfort level, but it was quite a bit better than it had been before.

He let his head fall back against the wall behind him. Almost unbidden, his mind skipped back to months before, when this entire horrible matter had begun.

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"Gus!" An excited Shawn burst into the Psych office, where his friend was working at his desk. "Dude, let's go!"

"Let's go where, Shawn? If it's another hair-brained scheme of yours, you can go alone."

"No, it's not that. The chief wants us to go down to the station. She's got a new case for us."

"I didn't get a call." Gus looked at his phone doubtfully.

"Well," Shawn paused, fiddling with a rubber pineapple on his desk, "that's probably because she didn't call … exactly."

"We both know you're a fake, Shawn. There's no way you just know." Gus accentuated the last word by wiggling his fingers near his head, mimicking Shawn's mannerism.

"Fine. If you must know –"

"Yes, I must," Gus replied. "This way I can cover my backside when you get shot down.

"Ooh! So cold. But , if you insist, I may or may not have … overheard some discussion regarding a home invasion case."

"Overheard? As in, 'I used my police scanner to pick up confidential information that only the cops should know.' That kind of 'overheard'?"

"You underestimate me, Gus." Shawn pretended to look hurt. "I –"

"You know, I know too much already. Let's just get down there. I have work to do." He grabbed his suit coat off the back of his chair. "The sooner you get down there, the sooner Lassiter will kick you out and I can get back to it." He pushed open the door, and headed for his car.

"Gus! He won't kick us out!" Shawn followed the other man outside.

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"Spencer, out!"

"But, Lassie, I got a very intense feeling you want me here."

Lassiter snorted. ""And when have I ever asked you to come help?" I distinctly remember telling you yesterday not to show back up here again unless the chief or I called you."

"But you did."

Sighing, Gus took his friend's arm. "I told you, Shawn. We aren't wanted here. Let's go."

Shawn began to reply, only to be interrupted as the chief stepped from her office.

"Mr. Spencer! I thought I heard you here."

"Don't worry, Chief. He was just leaving." Lassiter glared at Shawn.

"Uh, no." Shawn turned to face Karen. "I sensed you needed me, Chief. There's something big happening."

"And did you happen to divine any details about it, or is it just fuzzy?" the head detective interjected.

Shawn ignored him. "So, can I have a case, Chief? You know I'll solve it."

"Do I?" Karen raised an eyebrow.

Just then, Juliet joined the group in the bullpen. "Hi, guys," she greeted Shawn and Gus. "Are they in on the details yet?" she asked the chief.

"Not yet," Karen replied. "Gentlemen, in my office please. O'Hara, Lassiter, you come, too."

Shawn grinned triumphantly and hurried to claim one of the chairs. A little less certain, Gus followed the others. He kept his complaints to himself until they were driving back to the office.

"Shawn."

"Yeah, buddy?" Shawn asked, looking up from the file in his lap. "What's up?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"Uh, would I be asking if I did?"

"Fine," Gus snapped. "You promised the chief you would solve this case."

"Yeah, so?"

"So?" So that's not a promise you can make Shawn! You heard the details; these guys are nearly untraceable. They break in, subdue the residents, and get away with a ton of look! All the while leaving hardly any clues!"

"That's why we're here, Gus! We'll find them and close the case. Easy."

"Somehow easy is not the word that comes to my mind."

"Look, here's a clue already," Shawn pointed out. "The victims all had their houses serviced recently."

"For different stuff, Shawn. The first two had a plumber, the third an electrician, and the fourth had their gutters cleaned."

Shawn peered at the file. "Yeah, sure. But it's worth looking into."


	6. Chapter 6

Shawn awoke with a groan. His sore body was still protesting Sol's visit the night before, and now his neck was complaining that he had fallen asleep in any other position than lying down.

Wincing, he rolled his head from side to side, trying to work the stiffness out as much as he could.

His eyes traveled around the room as he did so. Now that there was light coming through various cracks in the walls, he could actually make out his surroundings. Not that there was much to be seen; the place was quite bare.

It was still dark in the corners and along the walls – dark enough that he nearly missed it at first. Shawn peered at the far wall again, hoping he wasn't imagining things. All he needed was a few hallucinations to perfect his vacation.

In relief, he realized it was not a figment of his imagination. There really was a cell phone lying on the floor.

Shawn didn't quite know why it was there, but he wasn't going to argue over trivial details at the moment. All that mattered was that he now had a way to get in touch with someone who was not currently tied up in a shack in the middle of nowhere.

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It had been over two days, and there was still no sign of Shawn. Gus had checked his phone countless times since his friend had gone missing, hoping for what deep down he knew would never come.

When Shawn left, Shawn left. He wouldn't call for a while, if at all. Shawn was one of those people who did nothing halfway. When he threw himself into something, he did it wholeheartedly, and when he pulled out of something, he did so completely.

Not that it stopped Gus from thinking about his best friend in the least. In fact, it was only the fact that he didn't know where to start that kept him from jumping in the car and going after Shawn.

Gus fiddled with the paper in his hand, turning it over and over without really reading what was on it. He didn't need to; he already knew the content.

He had read it over and over the past few days since finding it in the stack of mail at the office. Carrying a law office seal at the top, the document informed them that Beverly and Louis Masters were suing the Psych agency for pain and suffering and that a hearing had been scheduled.

Why had Shawn left? The two of them could have worked through the issue together; they could have gotten that lawyer, Hornstock, to help. Gus was sure he would. In fact, he made a note to himself to call the man later that afternoon.

While his memory wasn't quite as good as his friend's, Gus still had no problem recalling the details that led up to the horrible situation in which they had found themselves, the situation that had in turn led to the paper he now held in his hand.

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Within a few hours of being given the case, Shawn was dragging Gus to the office of Sol Hayden.

"Come on, Gus! He knew all of the servicemen. There's no way I'm not going to look into him."

"Shawn," Gus protested, hanging back, "he's just a tax advisor. Lots of people hire them."

Shawn paused. "True. But not all people serviced homes that were robbed soon after." He grinned and continued up the walk.

Sighing, Gus hurried to catch up. "Fine. But when this lead turns into nothing, I'm blaming you for a wasted afternoon."

"Wasted," Shawn scoffed. "Wasted would be doing your route. Now, you coming or not?" With that, he opened the door to the office.

The office was cool and dim compared to the sunny afternoon. As he let his eyes adjust to the change in lighting, Shawn took in the sports magazines and various art pieces that featured one sport in particular.

Strolling over to the counter, Shawn smiled at the receptionist. "Hi there," he greeted, leaning across the dark-grained wood. "We're here to see Mr. Hayden."

The young woman returned his smile. "Did you have an appointment?"

"No, actually, we don't," Shawn shrugged. "I am Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner, George Magooba. We just need to ask Mr. Hayden a few questions."

The receptionist – Anne, according to the name plate on the counter – shook her head, causing her blonde ponytail to flick back and forth. "I'm really sorry, sir, but I can't let you in. Mr. Hayden only takes clients by appointment."

"Oh, no," Shawn laughed. "We're not here as clients. We have some questions about things totally unrelated to … uh, tax … filing."

"In that case, I'll have to ask you to leave. Mr. Hayden doesn't take visits from salesmen." Anne's voice was firm.

"Anne, do we look like salesmen?" Shawn's grin dissolved as Gus kicked him in the ankle. "Ow! We, uh, we work for the Santa Barbara Golfing Association," he informed her, his eyes lighting on the small, decorative golf bag sitting on the counter. "We wanted to speak with Mr. Hayden about a special opportunity down at the course."

"Ah. Well, I'm sure he would be happy to see you." She glanced at her computer screen. "I can squeeze you in this afternoon. How does three sound?"

"It's really important," Gus spoke up. "Do you have anything sooner?"

She shook her head apologetically. "No, I'm sorry. Mr. Hayden has been very busy lately."

"I'm sure he has. Look," Shawn told her, leaning in and lowering his voice, "if we don't get someone signed up for this spot before lunch, the national association will pass our city over. We've been to several other places already, but we haven't been able to get anyone on board. And if they pass us over, our jobs are done." He gave her his best puppy dog eyes. "Do you really want to be the reason we're unemployed – especially with this economy?"

Anne's mouth twisted to the side, and Shawn could tell she was trying to decide whether to believe him or not. He sighed and turned to Gus.

"All right, buddy. Let's go see if we can get someone signed before you have to pick up the twins from kindergarten." Making as if to leave, he purposefully turned slowly, giving Anne an opportunity to speak up.

"Wait," she called. "You can go on in, but only if you can do it quickly. He has another appointment in ten minutes. You have five."

"That's all we need," Shawn replied, making sure he sounded very relieved. "We really appreciate this."

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

Gus was startled out of his reverie by the persistent ringing of a phone. It was his tone for unknown numbers, and he almost didn't pick it up. He wasn't in the mood to talk anyone else at the moment. His inclination was to let it go to voicemail, and he would get it later.

But something prompted him to answer, and he jumped to his feet when he heard the voice on the other end. "Shawn!"

"Yeah, it's me," came the slightly strained answer.

"Where are you? What happened? Why didn't you call sooner?"

Shawn chuckled, then coughed. "Slow down, buddy."

"Shawn, are you okay?" Gus asked worriedly. His friend didn't sound well off at all.

"About that … Actually, I need you to get down here with help as soon as you can."

"What? Where is 'down here'? Why do you need help?"

"You remember Sol Hayden?"

Gus' eyebrows rose slightly. "Yes. Shawn, what is this about?"

"Well, see, I know where he is."

"You do?"

"He's the sheriff of this little town a few hours outside of Santa Barbara –"

"Sheriff?" Gus couldn't help interrupting. Hayden as a lawman was a hard thing to imagine. "Wouldn't the people notice his name from the news reports back during the case?"

"He's probably changed his name, and his appearance has changed a bit," Shawn told him. "Besides …" he trailed off for a moment. "Hold on. I think he's back."

"Shawn, are you in trouble? Did he recognize you?" When Shawn didn't respond, Gus repeated himself, raising his voice into the receiver. "Shawn! Shawn, what's going on?"

"Gus, get Lassie and Jules and drive out to New –"

Before Shawn could complete the sentence, the line suddenly went dead.


	7. Chapter 7

"Shawn!" Gus clenched the phone until it nearly cracked under his grasp, but he knew it was no use. The only sound coming through the line was a dial tone.

It took much longer than he would have liked to arrive at the station, even though he sped through the streets as quickly as he dared. Finally pulling into a space in the SBPD parking lot, he hurried up the stairs and through the doors, rushing to find one of the detectives.

They noticed him almost as soon as he entered and were waiting for him when he screeched to a halt in front of Juliet's desk.

"What is it, Gus?" she asked, looking around. "Where's Shawn?"

"He's in trouble," Gus panted, trying to catch his breath.

"Trouble? Guster, if he got himself arrested for breaking and entering, you can forget us helping you two."

"No," Gus shook his head. He had regained his composure, and he now was ready to explain himself. "He disappeared a few days ago – left town from what I could tell. I didn't tell anyone because he left on his own. There was nothing you could do about it."

"So how do you know he's in trouble?" Juliet wanted to know.

"I got a call, not even ten minutes ago. I didn't recognize the number, but it was Shawn. He said he needed help, that he was in a small town a few hours away, and that Sol Hayden was there."

"Hayden?" Lassiter's eyebrows rose. "You mean our suspect in the home invasion case?"

"Yes," Gus confirmed. "And then Shawn said Hayden was coming back, and the line went dead. I think he's in trouble," he concluded.

"Did he say which town?" Juliet inquired worriedly.

Gus sighed. "He started to. All I have is that it starts with 'New'."

"New …" Lassiter mused. After a moment, his eyes lit up, and he turned to Gus. "What was the area code?"

Within moments, his hunch was confirmed.

"Newport! O'Hara, call the Newport police department, tell them they have a suspected felon in their town, and that they need –"

"Wait," Gus interrupted, trying not to let the head detective's glare intimidate him. "All calling them will do is alert Hayden to the fact that we know he's there. Shawn said he's the sheriff."

"The what?" Lassiter looked at him incredulously. "Hayden? You're kidding."

"I wish I was." Gus met Juliet's gaze. "We have to go out there. Shawn needs our help."

"You're right," she nodded firmly. "Carlton?"

"Don't worry. I'm more than ready to see this end."

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

Shawn pushed himself into a sitting position from where he had been leaning into the phone. One of the problems with having your hands cuffed behind you was that you couldn't exactly hold a phone to your ear.

He sighed. Of course the battery would be on its last leg! Why couldn't his crisis calls ever go right? First it was the former date when he'd been shot, and now a dead cell phone when he was captive in the middle of nowhere.

Thinking back over his short exchange with Gus, he hoped he had given him enough information to find him. He knew the call had cut the town name off, but he had told Gus it was a few hours away from Santa Barbara … Hopefully his friend would be able to figure out where he was.

And hopefully soon. Shawn was relieved to discover the sounds he thought were Sol coming back were merely the wind playing tricks on his fuzzy brain. However, he knew the man wouldn't be too long in returning, and Shawn most certainly did not want to be around when he did.

After studying his surroundings, he soon realized there was no way to escape. The building may have been old, but Sol had taken care to ensure that no one locked in could get out. Definitely no one who had been beaten, anyway. If he weren't dealing with broken ribs and a concussion, and possibly more, he might be able to get out. He could break a window and hoist himself out; even with his hands cuffed behind him, Shawn was pretty sure he could accomplish the feat. But in his condition, there was no way he would be able to do so.

He sat back in frustration, leaning against the wall. When his eyes began drifting closed, he shook his head and tried to occupy his mind with something else. He knew he shouldn't sleep if he had a concussion, so he focused his thoughts on his first meeting with Sol Hayden, back in Santa Barbara months before.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

A few moments after Anne had agreed to let them in, the inner door opened, and a man in a suit exited. He raised an eyebrow at Shawn's jeans and sneakers on his way out.

Shawn shook his head. "He acts like I don't belong here."

"You don't belong here, Shawn," Gus informed him, his voice slightly angry.

"Why not?"

"Please, like you need a tax assistant. You don't even file taxes."

"Of course not. That's why I have you."

"Can I help you gentlemen?" a voice broke through their whispers. They had arrived in Sol Hayden's office, and the man was looking at them expectantly from his seat behind his desk.

"Yes, hello." Shawn raised a hand in greeting. "My name is Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner, George Magooba."

"You're not my next appointment?" Sol looked confused.

"No, but we might come back for your services at a later date. Right now, however, we have a few questions for you."

"About?"

"We work for the golf course and are interested in having you join our exclusive gold club," Shawn said.

"Really?" Sol picked up the file on his desk and stepped over to the filing cabinet, sliding open the top drawer.

As he continued the conversation, Shawn's eyes darted around the room, paying special attention to the files in the drawer. The servicemen in the files had last names that ran between A-G, but there were no corresponding files in the drawer.

"It sounds very nice, but I can't afford it right now. Thank you, though, for coming." Sol began to usher them out of the office.

"Oh!" Shawn snapped his fingers. "We also needed to ask you about a few servicemen."

"Do you now?" Sol's voice rose slightly, and Shawn picked up on the nervousness that now laced his tone.

"Yes, see, we're contracting maintenance work and some of the applicants listed you on their forms."

"They did?" Sol's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Yes. Do you know a plumber named Jonathon Fisher, an electrician named Jerry Andrews, or a fellow by the name of Ronny Donaldson who does odd jobs?"

Narrowing his eyes a little, Sol took a moment longer than necessary to answer. "Yes," he answered finally, drawing out the word. "Yes, I do their taxes. Nothing more. I couldn't give them a character reference or anything; they probably just put me down because we work together on taxes, and they do jobs for me sometimes."

"Okay, great." Shawn flashed a smile. "Thanks for your time."

As they made their way past Anne's desk, Shawn waved to her. "Thank you so much! We appreciate you letting us in."

"Sure," she replied, barely lifting her eyes from the monitor.


	8. Chapter 8

The trip to Newport began in relative silence. The unspoken fear of what the unknown hovered between them, the fact that they didn't know what had happened to Shawn.

Gus was watching the white lines along the side of the highway speed past when Juliet turned to him.

"Gus, what exactly happened?"

He could tell she was just trying to fill the emptiness that hung between them, though he wasn't complaining. He didn't want to dwell on what ifs anymore than she did.

"I know you told us the story when everything first happened, but something else had to have come up. Shawn wouldn't wait this long to leave without something else having prompted him." She looked him in the eye. "Start from the beginning."

Gus nodded, rubbing his palms against his pants. "Well, after we left Hayden's office …"

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

"There's something suspicious about that guy, Gus," Shawn remarked, climbing into the passenger seat.

Gus turned the key in the ignition. "What makes you say that?"

"Didn't you notice his files? There was nothing under the names of the servicemen."

"But Hayden does their taxes," Gus said, confused.

"Then why weren't they in his files? And why did he get all nervous when I asked him about them?"

"I guess he wasn't expecting you to bring them up," Gus shrugged, flicking on his turn signal and pulling out onto the street.

"You wouldn't get nervous if you didn't have something to hide. He's up to something, Gus; I know it."

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

"So that was when Shawn got suspicious of Hayden?" Juliet asked.

"Right," Gus nodded. "And after some further digging, he was fairly certain he was right."

"But how did you two end up in that mess with the Masters?" Lassiter wanted to know.

"They called us that afternoon, worried about the break-ins. Since they had recently hired one of the handymen, Shawn had a vibe that they might be a possible target. We went to see them the next morning, and they asked us to stay that night. Beverly Masters insisted she'd feel better if there were detectives in the house."

"And Spencer was right about the hit?" Lassiter interjected.

"Apparently so," Gus replied.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

"Gus ... Gus!"

He opened his eyes sleepily, blinking at his friend's form in front of him. Shawn reached out and poked him again.

"Gus!"

"I'm awake, Shawn. What do you want?" he yawned.

"There's someone at the door."

"Shawn, it's ..." He looked at the clock. "It's 5 am! Who would be at the door?"

"Why do you think I know who it is?" Shawn asked, making his way towards the window on the opposite side of the room.

Gus began to reply, but Shawn held up a hand. "Shh. You hear that?"

"What?"

Shawn paused. "That!"

"Shawn, I don't hear anything," Gus said, rolling his eyes and settling back on the couch. "You're too paranoid."

Suddenly, Shawn hurried back from the window, nearly leaping across the room in his haste. "Gus. Gus, go call Lassie."

"Do what? Why?"

"Do it!"

The urgency in his friend's voice had Gus sitting up straight, reaching for his phone on the end table. "What do I say?" he asked.

"Tell him the robbers are here. And go hide!"

"What?"

"Dude, do you really think you want to be here when they get in?" Shawn was whispering now, his voice urgent. "Go!"

Gus rose, starting to make his way towards the kitchen. "What about you?"

The doorknob began to turn then, and Shawn scrambled for the stairs. "Just go, Gus!"

As the door began to creak open, Gus gave up on the questions, spun for the doorway, and disappeared into the back of the house. Shawn finished mounting the stairs and vanished into the darkness of the hallway. Neither was in sight when the first shadowy form slipped into the foyer.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

"And you know what happened after that." Gus shrugged, not wanting to relive the rest of the night. His memories were clear enough; he really didn't want to go through it all out loud.

Juliet nodded, silently going over it all in her own mind. They were soon interrupted by Lassiter's announcement that they had arrived.

Gus watched through the window as they drove through the town – if it could be called that. Newport didn't have much in the way of … Well, in the way of anything. They pulled to a stop in front of a worn-looking establishment. The sign hanging from the porch proclaimed it to be Velma's Home Cooking.

A bell above the door announced their arrival. There weren't many customers in at this time of day. The few who were there watched the newcomers with curiosity as they made their way to the counter.

"Who's in charge here?" Lassiter asked, leaning on the counter.

A plump, red-haired woman bustled in from the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at him. "You certainly talk big. You a fed?"

Lassiter was not amused. "I am Detective Carlton Lassiter with the Santa Barbara Police Department." He had noticed her name badge when she'd entered, and he nodded. "I have a few questions for you, Velma."

"And what makes you think I can answer these questions of yours? You know, you ain't gonna be making any friends with that attitude."

"I'm not interested in discussing my social life with you right now. Now, have you noticed anything suspicious going on lately?"

"Like what? Bank robbers? Aliens?"

Juliet decided to intervene then. "Have you seen either of these men?" She held up two photos, one of Shawn and one of Sol Hayden.

Brow furrowing in confusion, Velma nodded. "Well, that there's Sheriff Warner. And that other one is that nice young man who passed through a few days back." She smiled fondly, rubbing the obviously new piece of jewelry on her hand. "He was a psychic, you know."

"Sounds like Spencer."

"I wish he'd stayed around longer." Velma looked from one to the other. "He isn't … in trouble, is he?"

"That's what we're here to find out," Lassiter explained. "Do you have any idea where he went?"

Velma shot him a mild glare. "No, no, sorry." She directed her gaze back to Juliet. "Though you could check with Tom at the garage. I know he had been working on Shawn's bike."

"Great, thank you. And Sheriff … Warner would be in his office?" It was a little strange to be calling Hayden by any other name, and definitely by that title.

"Most likely, 'less he's out on a call. Though we don't get much trouble 'round here." Velma nodded as if agreeing with herself.

"Thank you," Juliet smiled. "We'll be in touch."


	9. Chapter 9

The trio exited the diner and were soon on their way to Tom's garage. Even without Velma's directions, it would have been hard to miss. The small building sat on the opposite side of the street from the diner, about a block down the road.

Opting to walk rather than drive the short distance, they arrived at the garage within several minutes. The red-brick building was clearly an older structure, but it had been obviously well kept-up. There was a glass door on the front of the building that led into a reception area; Gus could see a service counter and several chairs. A motorcycle that he recognized immediately as Shawn's occupied a space in the back corner of the lot.

A dark-haired man came out to meet them as they neared the garage. His coveralls, complete with a nametag, told Lassiter this was the man they needed to see.

"Can I help you folks?" Tom asked with a friendly smile. He wiped his hands on a greasy red rag that had seen better days, striding past the few cars that sat waiting for attention.

Juliet returned the smile. "Have you seen a young man by the name of Shawn Spencer lately?"

"Not lately. And if you see him, I'd thank you to send him my way. He wanted that bike repaired as quickly as possible - I finished in record time, too - and he hasn't been by to check on it or pick it up. I haven't been paid, and now it's just taking up space in my lot. If he doesn't come by soon, I'm gonna have to look into other options."

"You mean you'd get rid of it?" Gus asked, upset at the thought of his friend's prized possession being sold off.

"Well, policy says if it ain't claimed in a week without me hearing from the owner, I can have it towed."

Lassiter moved his jacket, revealing the badge on his belt. "Let's keep it here until we tell you otherwise, all right?"

Tom's eyes widened. "Wow. Yeah, uh, sure. Whatever you say." He twisted the rag, his fingers unconsciously playing with a small frayed hole in the corner.

"Good." Lassiter let his jacket settle back into place. "Any ideas where he could be?"

"Nope." Tom shook his head. "I haven't been able to reach him at the hotel."

"Hotel?"

"Yeah." The grin he gave Lassiter was now more nervous than warm. "He was staying at the hotel - listed it as his contact information."

"Which hotel?" Juliet inquired

He turned his gaze to Juliet. "You seen the size of this place?" he asked with a small chuckle. "Newport's only got one hotel."

"All right. Do you have his room number?"

"Yeah, hang on just a second …" Tom disappeared into the garage, returning moments later with a sheet of paper. "Here's his form. Says he's in room 103."

"Thank you," Lassiter nodded. "We'll need a copy of that."

"Right. Yeah. Um, hold on." Tom disappeared again.

"Well, O'Hara, what do you think?" Lassiter asked his partner.

She turned her gaze back to him. "Honestly, I'm not sure." She shrugged. "It looks like Shawn just vanished."

"So this backs up his call, right?" Gus spoke up. "That Sol Hayden's got him somewhere?"

"It looks that way," Lassiter responded. "Spencer wouldn't have just left his bike here. For one, he needs it to get anywhere. And with confirmation that Hayden is in town, it makes it all the more likely that Spencer ran into trouble."

Tom returned just then, the sheet of paper in his hand flapping in the breeze. He handed the slightly-smudged paper to Juliet. "That should be it."

"We can find you here if we have more questions?" Lassiter asked.

The man nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be here until we close at 6."

"And after that?" the detective pressed.

Tom blinked. "Oh, um … Here." He dug in his pocket, producing a business card. Pulling a pen from the same pocket, he scribbled a set of numbers on the back before handing it over.

Lassiter accepted the now-grease-smudged piece of cardstock.

"That's my, uh, that's my home number on the back there. You can just call me if you need anything else." An idea seemed to hit him, and he reached out for the card. "I can give you my address, too, if you need it."

"No, that's fine. We'll call you." Lassiter nodded in response.

"Oh, okay." Tom shrugged. He stood waiting expectantly.

"Thank you," Juliet told him, giving him a smile. "We'll be in touch."

"Great, thanks. I hope you find him," Tom said before turning and making his way back to the car on which he had been working.

"Now what?" Gus asked as they turned back towards the diner.

"We go talk to the sheriff," Lassiter stated.

"What?" Gus' eyebrows rose. He stepped over the uneven edge of the diner's parking lot. "Won't he recognize us?"

"We aren't planning to let him see you," Lassiter explained. "He doesn't know O'Hara or myself." He reached the car ahead of the other two, unlocked the doors, and got into the driver's seat.

Satisfied, Gus dropped the topic and took his place in the backseat. They had no trouble locating the sheriff's office and soon arrived in front of the correct building.

Before either of the detectives could open their doors, Sol exited his office. Gus sank down in the backseat, but the man didn't even look in their direction. Instead, he determinedly strode for his own vehicle.

As Sol pulled out onto the two-lane road out of town, Lassiter quickly turned the keys, reigniting the Crown Vic's engine. Juliet and Gus grabbed for a handhold as Lassiter reversed directions in one quick motion. Tires squealing, they pulled out onto the same road down which Sol had just disappeared.

It wasn't long before the tail end of the black car came into view. Lassiter raised his right foot slightly, slowing down to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention.

Juliet's brow furrowed in confusion as Newport fell away behind them. "Where's he going?"

"I'm not sure," Gus replied, equally confused. "The closest town in this direction is over an hour away." In response to the looks sent his way, he spread his hands a slight distance apart. "What? I looked it up."

Shaking his head, Lassiter spoke up. "Well, this is the only road between Newport and the next town. Either he's planning to drive for an hour or he's up to no –"

The car suddenly lurched to the side, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

Juliet groaned in frustration, echoing everyone's feelings. "Oh come on! Not now!"

Lassiter pulled the car to the side of the road, pushing open his door as soon as he had thrown the gear to park. "Let's get this tire changed, Guster," he barked.

Tearing his eyes from the car that was gradually growing smaller, Gus joined the other man at the back of the car.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

Shawn was fighting to keep his lids from sliding closed. He had nearly lost the battle when a noise outside had him as alert as he could be. He listened intently as it grew steadily louder. There was no mistaking the sound of a car approaching.

A ray of hope shot through his foggy mind, and he couldn't help the grin that crept onto his slightly swollen face. Gus had come through! He had figured the phone call out and gotten help; now all they had to do was apprehend Sol and everything would be all right.

He began to push to his feet, not stopping to think of his injuries. Everything went dim for a moment, then, head spinning, he found himself back on the floor. As he fought to regain his bearings, the thought hit him that the car outside could very well be carrying Sol. He barely noticed that the noise outside had ceased until the door flew open. Blinking against the sudden glare of sunlight, he saw a dark form step across the threshold.

Sol chuckled as he kicked the door shut and approached his captive. Toying with the rope in his hands, he smiled. His smile seemed to carry with it a sense of something cold and sinister as he asked, "So, Shawn, are you ready to finish our party?"


	10. Chapter 10

"Just our luck," Lassiter said in disgust, glaring at the tire sitting on the pavement. Air slowly leaked around a nail that had embedded itself into the rubber. He felt like kicking the worthless thing across the state. "Of all the times I roll over a nail, it's now."

Gus turned from the trunk, having deposited the jack back in its place. Not to be caught slacking, Lassiter leaned over and picked up the tire, shifting its weight as he stood. After placing it in the back of the vehicle, he slammed the trunk shut. "Guster, get in the car."

The other man didn't argue with him, hurrying to take his seat as Lassiter made his way to the driver's side. Shutting his own door with more force than necessary, the detective soon had the car on the road again.

Sol Hayden had long since disappeared, and all three were silently hoping that they hadn't lost him for good. The empty expanse of asphalt stretched ahead of them, and Newport was long since gone behind. It was easy to imagine any one of numerous possibilities that could happen if they didn't catch up in time.

It had seemed to take longer than necessary to change the tire, but it seemed to be taking even longer to catch up to their target. They had driven for ten minutes before Lassiter finally hit the brakes.

"This is insane. We must have missed a turnoff somewhere."

Juliet shook her head in slight confusion. "We were watching pretty closely, Carlton."

"But it doesn't make sense!" Lassiter rubbed his forehead. "He couldn't have gotten this far in the time we were stopped. And he didn't just disappear into thin air; he had to have turned off somewhere."

At his partner's nod, he spun the car around. The tires squealed as he floored the accelerator, abandoning stealth for speed.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

Shawn swallowed against the lump in his throat. "No, not really," he replied.

"Aw," Sarcasm played at Sol's voice. "Sorry. You don't get to choose." His eye caught sight of the phone lying a few feet from where Shawn now sat. "What in the – Where'd you get that?"

Sol didn't stop to hear an answer, stalking over and scooping up the device. As he leaned over, a thin chain that had been hanging around his neck slipped down, the ring through which it was threaded falling from under his shirt. It dangled down across his mouth, bouncing slightly until he swiped it away.

Watching as the other man tucked the ring back into its place, Shawn's mind's eye raced back to months before when they were still investigating the robberies …

Sol noticed a change in Shawn's expression, and he paused in mid-stride. "Something on your mind?"

His eyes narrowing slightly, Shawn returned the man's gaze. "They weren't after the money."

"What?" Sol's tone was confusion laced with nervousness.

"The robbers. They weren't actually robbing the Masters. You sent them after Gus and me, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Sol crossed his arms, but Shawn didn't miss the uneasiness that flickered through the other man's eyes.

"Beverly and Louis weren't supposed to get hurt. You'd realized that Gus and I were onto you, that it was only a matter of time before we alerted the police and you were arrested." Shawn was on a roll now. "You sent your crew to take care of us, only you didn't know where we were. They tracked us there, only they didn't realize that we were at the home of your former fiancée."

Sol's expression changed to one of shocked anger. "How do you know that?"

"That ring, the one that you wear around your neck. It's the same one that Beverly was wearing in her college photos. Your crew didn't steal anything from the Masters' house, so if you have it, she gave it to you. Did your crew know –"

He was cut off mid-sentence as Sol closed the distance between them, closing a hand around Shawn's neck.

"I think it's time to finish our game now."

Behind his back, Shawn's hands involuntarily began grabbing for a hold, as if he could put a stop to the darkness that was beginning to close in. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, and the room slowly began to grow fuzzy.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

They nearly missed the turn the second time; the trail was so light from the little use it received. It was only due to the squirrel that scampered across the road that Juliet even looked closely enough to see the turn off.

But once they noticed the fresh tire tracks, Lassiter determinedly turned his vehicle onto the road. The trail was slightly rutted, causing the passengers to bounce around on the seats.

Gus gritted his teeth as they continued down the road. "I hope it's not too much farther."

As if in answer to his remark, they rounded a corner and a black car came into view. More interesting than the car, however, was the small building next to which the car was parked. The outside, though slightly rundown with boarded windows, was still quite sturdy.

"Guster, stay in the car," Lassiter ordered as he and Juliet quietly opened their doors.

"But –"

"That's an order." Checking his weapon, Lassiter turned back to face the other man. "We don't need to be worrying about you."

"Lassiter, Shawn might be in there!" Gus objected.

"All the more reason for you to stay put. If there's a hostage situation, you'll just be in the way."

Gus crossed his arms in annoyance as the detectives made their way towards the entrance. He agreed with their logic, but he still wanted to be with them. He wasn't sure he could wait long enough to find out what was going on inside.

He watched as Lassiter and Juliet flanked the doors. Lassiter counted off on his fingers, then they sprang into action, kicking open the door and charging inside.


	11. Chapter 11

The wood splintered under Lassiter's heel, giving way as the two detectives rushed into the small shack. Lassiter was prepared to fire, his finger already edging for the trigger, but Sol Hayden managed to recover from his surprise quite quickly.

The man tightened his grip on his own weapon, digging the barrel into the side of Shawn's head. He had an arm around his prisoner's neck as he snarled at Lassiter and Juliet. "Get back!"

"Shawn, are you all right?" Juliet asked, taking in his bruised face and wavering expression. He appeared to be close to unconsciousness.

Sol didn't give Shawn a chance to respond, pulling his arm closer, further cutting off any air. "Shut up!" he snapped at Juliet. His eyes darted between the two detectives.

"Hayden, you don't want to do this," Lassiter warned. He was watching intently for any break, no matter how small, that he could use to his advantage.

"Oh, don't I? And why not? Seems like a good way to keep you two from blowing a part of me off."

Shifting his weight to the other foot, Lassiter nodded. "Sure, but how long is that going to last? This can't go on forever."

Sol noticed the motion. "Stay back!" he warned, backing up a little. He kept his grip firmly clenched around both Shawn and the gun. "I don't want this gun to go off by accident. I'm sure you don't either."

"Hayden …" Lassiter's tone was hard and tense.

Throughout the exchange, Lassiter had been watching Sol, but he dropped his gaze to Shawn for a moment. When they had first burst in, Sol had been throttling the life out of him, and Shawn still looked pretty close to passing out. Lassiter's eyes narrowed as he returned to glaring at Sol, but the man just smirked and returned the gaze.

He was doing a remarkable job of covering both detectives, Lassiter observed, then mentally kicked himself for complimenting a criminal.

Suddenly, Shawn went limp. The sudden shift surprised Sol, and he stumbled slightly as he tried to compensate for the extra weight now hanging from his arm. His gun lowered slightly, wavering as he was thrown off balance.

Lassiter noticed and took advantage of the opening. One shot from the detective's gun and Sol dropped his own with a yell. He fell backwards, knocked by the force of the bullet. His arm was still wrapped around Shawn's neck, and he pulled Shawn with him as he collapsed. Shawn's fall was cushioned by the other man, and the detectives could hear the whoosh of air leaving Sol's lungs.

The thought of how appropriate the turn of situation was came to Juliet's mind, but it was quickly covered with worry for Shawn. She followed her partner as he rushed over to the two men on the floor. As Lassiter kicked Sol's weapon aside, Juliet reached to move Shawn to a more comfortable position. As she touched his shoulder, his eyes popped open.

"Shawn!" She couldn't help her gasp of surprise.

He looked slightly disoriented, but he still managed to wink at her. "I told Gus that boneless act would come in handy one day," he said, his voice slightly husky.

"Spencer, you're lucky you led us to Hayden," Lassiter growled, cinching the cuffs around Sol's wrists before turning his attention to the wound in the man's shoulder. "Otherwise, this wouldn't be such a happy reunion."

"Shawn!" Gus' shout came from the door.

Rolling his eyes in frustration, Lassiter didn't bother looking up. "Guster, I told you to stay in the car."

Gus ignored him and hurried to Shawn's side. "Shawn, are you okay?" He took in the fresh blood on Shawn's shirt and paled slightly.

"Don't worry," Juliet assured him. "It's not his."

The information didn't seem to make much difference to Gus; he swallowed and focused his gaze on Shawn's face. "Don't you ever do that to me again, Shawn. I was worried sick!"

"More so than normal?" Shawn asked. His normally chipper voice was slightly slurred, and his eyes were focused somewhere beyond the two people bent over him.

"Shawn, are you all right?" Juliet asked. She had noticed his distant expression and slow reflexes as well as the bruises on his face, and she was worried that Sol had managed to do serious damage before they had arrived.

He didn't answer her or show any sign that the question had registered with him. When Juliet pressed along his abdomen, Shawn's hiss of protest indicated that she was right. He had at least one broken rib along with a concussion and a bruised windpipe.

"We need to get you to a doctor," she stated, sitting back on her heels. "Can you walk?"

"Can't we just call an ambulance?" Gus asked. His brow was furrowed in slight confusion.

Juliet turned to look him in the eye. "It would take too long to get one here. Newport doesn't have an ambulance service, and the nearest town is too far. It will be a lot quicker if we take him back to Newport and find a doctor ourselves."

"You're right," Gus agreed. He bent down and put a hand on Shawn's shoulder. "Come on, buddy. We need to get you to the car."

Between Gus and Juliet, they managed to get Shawn up from the floor. He leaned heavily on them both on the way out the door, stumbling more than once as they made their way to the car. Lassiter had already seated Hayden in the backseat of the Newport police car, having confiscated the keys once the sheriff was in custody. Juliet helped settle Shawn in the backseat of Lassiter's car, ignoring the head detective's protest about his seat covers. As Gus took a seat beside Shawn, Juliet retrieved a roll of caution tape to mark off the shack. While she didn't expect that many people would be nosing around, the place was officially a crime scene.

She finished taping it off and rejoined the others, hopping into the driver's seat of Sol's vehicle. Lassiter was grumbling various warnings at his passengers as she shut her door and started the engine.

Within an hour, they had dropped Shawn and Gus off at the doctor's and were on their way to the sheriff's office. They turned Sol over to his surprised deputy, giving him the location of the crime scene, before returning to check on Shawn.

By that evening, word had spread throughout town, and there was a crowd at the diner as the three visitors stopped in for a bite. It had taken threats from all three of them, as well as Doc MacReedy, before Shawn would consent to wait for them to bring him his dinner.

"So, you're sayin' Sheriff Hayden was really a wanted criminal?" Velma asked, setting steaming plates on the counter in front of them. Her tone conveyed surprise but also carried the hint of someone eager for the newest gossip.

Gus savored the tantalizing aroma of his chicken, letting the detectives answer the various questions being thrown at them.

"Well, yes, and that's part of the reason he came all the way out here," Juliet answered, picking up her fork. "Putting distance between himself and Santa Barbara helped him stay hidden."

"How'd you manage to catch him? Wasn't it dangerous?" Velma leaned against the counter, looking up at Lassiter with an awed expression.

The others gathered in the restaurant leaned in closer, intent on hearing the entire story.

"Well, yes, it was dangerous. He was an armed criminal after all. But I didn't let that bother me. After all, I had a civilian to rescue," Lassiter began, his voice rising as he launched into his story.

Gus and Juliet shared a look before turning their attention to their plates. It was going to be a long night.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

"All I'm saying is, please try to get along with your dad tonight." Gus fixed Shawn with a firm stare.

The two were back at the Psych office after having returned from Newport the day before. The town doctor had insisted Shawn stay at least a day before attempting to travel. However, Shawn had talked him down to one day, and Doc MacReedy had only agreed after making Shawn promise to take it easy for a week after arriving home. Knowing his friend's tendency to leap into anything and everything, Gus had managed to procure two days' vacation from his job at the pharmaceutical company.

Henry was taking over the psychic-sitting for the remaining three work days, a fact Gus had yet to tell Shawn. They were having dinner at Henry's house that night, partly to make up for the dinner Shawn had skipped when he first left town. Gus expected the issue to come up over the meal, and he was already preparing for the protests that were sure to come.

In turn, Shawn spread his hands to the sides. "Why do you feel the need to clarify that?" He leaned back in his chair, a grin playing across his face. The bruises were nearly healed; after a week, only a light hint of green and yellow could be seen on his cheekbone and jaw.

"Hmm, probably because you never seem to remember it?"

"Remember what?"

Gus groaned in mock frustration and turned his gaze back to his computer screen. Before Shawn could say anything further, the office door opened and Juliet entered.

"Jules, welcome! Normally, I'd leap up in enthusiasm, but you understand if I can't, right?" Shawn grinned at her.

She nodded and returned the smile. "Of course. How are you doing, by the way?"

"Oh, you know, as good as can be expected after a homicidal maniac beat me up last week," Shawn replied in a piteous tone.

"Has he been like this all week?" Juliet asked Gus.

Gus rolled his eyes in reply.

"Well," she continued, "I just came by to let you know that charges have been officially filed against Beverly Masters. She probably will get off fairly easily, since she was ignorant of the extent of what Sol had done. However, Louis Masters was very quick to drop the lawsuit against you once the situation was explained. They may have had success if they continued with it, but I don't think he ever wanted it in the first place."

"That's good to hear," Gus replied, visibly relieved.

Juliet glanced at her watch. "I need to be going," she told them. She stopped at the door and turned back. "Oh, and the Chief said to let you know that you are welcome back as soon as Shawn is ready." With a wave, she disappeared outside.

Gus caught the look in Shawn's eyes. "Uh, no."

"What?"

"That look. You're trying to figure out how to convince Chief Vick that you're ready to start tomorrow. Shawn, the doctor told you to wait at least several weeks before doing anything strenuous. And knowing you, you'll be in some sort of predicament within days of starting on cases again."

"Please," Shawn scoffed. "What makes you think I'd get into any trouble?"


End file.
